Fashion Police
by Chieira
Summary: In which Yusuke and the others confront Kurama's fashion sense - or lack thereof.


**Title: **Fashion Police  
**Author: **Chieira / KeairaxSeiaa / oOKeairaOo / That random person who left this fandom a long time ago.  
**Pairing: **None  
**Summary: **In which Yusuke and the others confront Kurama's fashion sense - or lack thereof.

**A/N: **First of all, while I poke fun at Kurama a lot in this story, this is not meant to bash him. He's my favorite character, after all. But dear God, the boy can't dress himself to save his life. The school uniform isn't his fault, really, but the bright orange jacket, not to mention the high-waisted white pants, gigantic brown coat, and various other travesties the animators of YYH have subjected him to... well.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Yu Yu Hakusho and am making no money from this story.

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Kurama's first thought was, _I'm going to kill Yusuke._

He didn't open his eyes. He didn't survey his surroundings. He didn't plot his escape. He stayed where he was and imagined the many and varied ways in which he was going to end the life of a certain "reformed" delinquent.

It would be slow. It would be messy. It would probably involve a blender.

His head hurt. It was a throbbing, dizzy sort of pain mixed with an itchy tickle that meant his youki was healing the concussion the detective had most likely given him.

Oh, Yusuke would pay.

Temporarily mollified by thoughts of a thoroughly blended reikai tantei, Kurama turned his attention to the situation at hand. His wrists and ankles were bound - to what felt like bed posts. Finding this an alarming but not entirely unfamiliar scenario, he opened his eyes to find out just who would be joining Yusuke in death if, as he suspected, this was not solely the other boy's doing.

Kuwabara Kazuma's concerned face greeted him.

"If this is yours and Yusuke's twisted method of sexual experimentation, I ask that, in the future, you leave me out of it."

Kuwabara blinked, then blanched before turning several shades of red, including a rather interesting maroon. The sight was almost worth getting a concussion and waking up tied to a bed.

Almost.

"Don't even-- why would you-- jeez, Kurama!"

"I would say you rather deserve it."

Kuwabara's face took on a practiced, serious expression. The words that followed were just as rehearsed. "Kurama, this is for your own good."

Kurama began to get a very, very bad feeling.

The taller redhead stepped aside and, upon lifting his head off of his pillow, Kurama was able to survey his surroundings. He was in his own bed, and he and Kuwabara were not the room's only occupants; Yusuke and Keiko stood at the foot of the bed, the latter of the two shooting furtive glances in the direction of Kurama's closet. Hiei was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking for all the world like he'd rather be anywhere else.

It was almost like an intervention.

"...Those plants in my nightstand are purely medicinal. I should think that my own friends would trust me to--"

"Stop, before you make a fool of yourself."

Kurama shot Hiei a cold look which earned him a sneer and slight eye-roll. The fox suspected that his glares were slightly less effective when he was bound to his own bed, but that didn't make him feel any less insulted. Surely they didn't think that this was enough to restrain him? The four of them were only still in possession of all of their limbs because they were his friends and he was mildly curious. He was merely suspending his decision about the limb-removal and blender-related death until the situation had been adequately explained to him.

Speaking of which:

"Kurama," Yusuke said, very slowly. "Have you ever heard of the fashion police?"

It was amazing how quickly a thousand years of patience could wear very, very thin.

Kurama's eyes must have conveyed what was going through his mind – something along the lines of, _Stabkillyouwilldieitwillhurt –_ because Yusuke immediately held up his hands defensively, taking a slight step back from the bed. "Like Kuwabara said, this is for your own good! And it was really his idea, anyway, and--"

"What?! You're the one who brought up that purple and yellow vest he wore last Thursday to the--"

"Both of you shut up!"

All eyes turned to Keiko, who set her hands on her hips. "Let's just get this over with." The words, _Before he gets loose and kills us all, _pretty much went without saying.

Yusuke nodded and Keiko made her way over to Kurama's closet, sliding the door open. The redhead watched in almost horrified fascination as Keiko began extracting some of his favorite outfits and tossing them into what appeared to be a metal trashcan brought along for the occasion.

"This... and, _God_, this... really, Kurama, what were you _thinking_... this has definitely got to--"

"What's wrong with my jacket?" Kurama demanded.

Keiko paused to stare at him. "It's orange."

"So?"

"Your hair is _very red._"

"...The saleswoman said it made my skin look great..."

"If by 'great,' she meant vaguely green-ish, then yeah, it did," Yusuke put in helpfully.

Apparently satisfied once over half of the contents of Kurama's closet had been dumped into the metal bin, Keiko stepped back and gave Hiei a slight nod. Dutifully doing his part, the small demon flicked a glance at the trashcan and the clothes inside promptly burst into flames.

"_Hiei!_" Kurama yelped, watching mournfully as black smoke began to rise from the bin. The others remained where they were, keeping watch as if suspecting that Kurama's questionable wardrobe might rise from the dead if not turned completely to ash.

Once the deed was done and Keiko had retrieved a bucket of water to pour over the smoldering remains of the redhead's clothing, Hiei disappeared out the window, apparently satisfied. Kuwabara, Keiko, and Yusuke began taking cautious steps towards Kurama's bedroom door, not taking their eyes off of their bound and possibly murderous friend.

"Shizuru has volunteered to take you shopping," Keiko informed him carefully, offering a nervous grimace which Kurama imagined was meant to pass for a smile.

"Yeah, she dresses like a dude, anyway," Yusuke added, receiving a slap to the back of the head from Kuwabara's direction. "Ow! What?! A better-dressed dude than Kurama!"

As the last, tiny remnants of Kurama's remaining patience snapped and carnivorous daisies chased his friends out of his house and seven blocks down the road, he remembered that he didn't actually own a blender.

Daisies weren't a bad second choice.

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Feedback is much appreciated.


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